And you have stolen my dagger. Mac would have some new yarns to spin and a fresh turn-over to his celebrated liver. Wood turned to look at him. ‘You see, it is that my papa, he is without sympathy,’ said the lady sadly. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. This time she tried to kill me with a dagger. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph.
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